Specifically, "th-fronting", (using "f" for "th", like "fink" for "think") and "l-vocalisation" (using a vowel in place of "l" in words like milk) are gradually entering everyday speech in the dear green place.

The most surprising finding in the study was that the change in speech patterns was clearer in people who watched and had a strong emotional connection with characters in EastEnders.

The research looked specifically at changing speech patterns in Glasgow, so we are still, to some extent, in the dark as to whether other parts of Scotland are also falling under the spell of accents from within the earshot of the Bow Bells.

Are the residents of Scotland's douce capital Edinburgh equally likely to don the verbal equivalent of "cor blimey" trousers? You'd imagine they'd be less keen to ape the argot of Albert Square. Maybe a different type of soap is necessary to alter the speech patterns of Edinburgh's finest, one with lustful glances over the falafels in Waitrose, or a "set-to" during the interval of The Cherry Orchard.

It's always fun to take a wee turn with the stereotypes of Scotland's two major cities, but much more unites than divides them. Once you get past the catchy cockney headlines in the way this research has been reported, you realise that the common ground between London and Glasgow is also the potentially really interesting finding in this research, particularly with the independence referendum looming next year.

Researchers found that while watching television accelerated language change, other more powerful factors such as social interaction had a much more significant effect. In other words, personal, family, business and social ties drove the way in which people behaved in ways that were not even conscious.

Cross-border ties with England are in the DNA of many Scots in myriad complex and subtle forms. This research reveals, almost as an afterthought, the way in which the fabric of the societies are woven together on a personal level.

Devolving or transferring powers can happen at the legal stroke of a pen. Transferring affections, history and economic partnerships is much, much harder. Of course many Scots do not feel the emotional pull of a relationship with England, quite the opposite. But very many do. Urban Glasgow kids arguably have as much in common with inner-city London youth "tribes" as they do with folk in the Hebrides.

That is precisely why the SNP has increasingly adopted its softly, softly approach of "keep and change" above a more radical rhetoric of "difference". Scots considering the independence question want answers on a range of questions – some of them on big issues like membership of the EU or currency. But they also care about what their passport will look like and whether they will still get to watch their favourite programmes. That's a tough mix of anxieties for pro-independence politicians to assuage.

If the complex emotional ties that bind Scotland and England mean that Glaswegian street kids are adopting the accent of Albert Square, selling independence is going to continue to need to reassure voters as much as inspire them.